Come Together
by JBS-Forever
Summary: "A Soc comes up behind Ponyboy, who is still floating in the high of taking someone out. He's got a blade in his hand and in a swift motion, he wraps his arm around Ponyboy and the blade sinks deep into his chest. 'PONYBOY' I shout. "


**So...long time no talk, eh?**** Sorry about that :/ I'm in the process of writing a book, so all my writing energy has been focused on that.  
**

**Yes, I took down "Designer Baby," and yes, I'm very sorry, but I had reasons.**

**I wrote this to get back into the flow of writing something besides my story. It's just a little one-shot, but I hope you all like it and will forgive me for the long absence. **

**Enjoy :)**

**.  
**

**.**

**.**

The house is buzzing. Everyone is in the living room making commotion. Steve and Sodapop are boxing, exchanging punches while the other acts as a block. Ponyboy is talking to Two-Bit, who is practically bouncing up and down in excitement. I lean against the doorway and cross my arms over my chest.

"Ready?"

Everyone looks my way.

"Let's do this!" Sodapop shouts. He's met with a chorus of approval and everyone cheers as we head out the door.

Alive in the moment, I grab the railing of the porch and push myself up into a handstand. I use the force to flip forward and land on my feet in the yard just as Steve sticks his back flip. Sodapop cartwheels ahead, leading us away from the house.

We start down the street and the buzz is still humming around us. Sodapop and Steve lead, while Ponyboy brings up the rear. He doesn't move as fast as he used to. I think that's why Two-Bit never strays too far from him.

You see, while Ponyboy was able to pull up his final grade in his English class, his paper turned out to be not 100 percent true. As much as he tried to convince himself that he was learning to handle the death of Johnny and Dally, he wasn't doing as well as he thought. And I never really figured out if he was just blind to it, or he was trying to convince himself he was okay.

He doesn't talk as much as he used to, and he didn't use to talk a lot in the first place. He still bumps into things and forgets where he leaves his backpack and his shoes and his keys. When he's overwhelmed–which happens a lot more than it used to–he rushes through his sentences and sometimes does what Sodapop calls a "panicky cry." I don't know if he deemed the term or if Ponyboy did, but it's the kind of crying when you feel like you're trapped and don't know how to get out. Well, that's how Sodapop explained it to me. Ponyboy rarely lets me see him cry.

But right now, he's in the moment. He smiles as Two-Bit swears into the air, thinking of every bad name he can call the Socs. Steve and Sodapop help him fill in the blanks and I glance back to make sure Ponyboy doesn't fall behind.

I probably shouldn't let him come to this rumble, but something inside me is hoping this will get him back to his old self. That doing this will reconnect him to the gang and to life.

It's only been a few months since the last fight, but the tension between us and the Socs has grown. It's been boiling since that day. I think the greasers have finally had enough of the Socs and their destructive behaviors. Every headline in the papers recently has been stories of parties and accidents, break-ins and drunk drivers. All Socs, all still considered high class. Greasers have been jumped twice as much as before. I won't let Ponyboy go anywhere by himself. Not since Sodapop came home with a broken nose.

We round the corner and Steve and Soda rush forward to greet some of their friends. Greasers from all over the neighborhood are here at this lot, ready to fight for their honor. I spy a few people I know and go over to greet them. Ponyboy and Two-Bit have met up with a few younger guys and I keep them within my sight as everyone around me chats about their plans and cracks their knuckles. It's a clean fight. No blades or weapons.

Pulling us from the pre-fight banter is the arrival of the Socs in their fancy, expensive cars. They climb out and form a line in front of us. We match them.

No one talks for a moment. I know most of the Socs here. Some of them are my age, people I used to know and talk to. I've always been right on the edge of the spectrum. I was the closest to a Soc within the gang, but I would never be one. I never want to.

"I'll take the little one," someone says, and I know instantly who he's talking about. Before he can get close to my brother, before anyone even moves, I punch him in the face. Hard.

The fight starts.

Everyone charges each other. Someone goes to punch me and I block it, elbowing him in the stomach. He goes down hard and I move to the next guy, glancing around quickly to see where everyone is.

Two-Bit and Ponyboy are side by side, blocking off the attack of a Soc. Sodapop has just been hit in the face, but he retaliates quickly and punches the guy. I don't see Steve, but I can hear him cheering from far away. He shouts something to Sodapop, but I can't make it out.

Another blow heads my way. I duck beneath it, but the tail end of the punch still catches me. It's barely enough to move me. I take the guy out with a few hits to the face and stomach.

Two-Bit runs past me and I look back quickly to see where Ponyboy is. He's fighting off a Soc a little taller than him, but he's holding his ground surprisingly well. When he gets that Soc to the ground, he smiles like it's one of the coolest things he's ever done.

And then the next thing happens in slow motion.

A Soc comes up behind Ponyboy, who is still floating in the high of taking someone out. He's got a blade in his hand and in a swift motion, he wraps his arm around Ponyboy and the blade sinks deep into his chest.

"PONYBOY!" I shout. Sodapop whips around at the sound of my voice. He sees what I see and quickly punches the Soc he's fighting in the face and shoves his way desperately through the crowd.

Ponyboy's eyes are wide and the Soc behind him whispers something in his ear before he rips the blade free. He disappears just as Ponyboy crumples to the ground.

All the sounds blur around me as I run. I think I hit people who are in my way, but I don't know. Nothing makes sense. All I can see is Ponyboy. My mind is working too slow. My heart is pounding against my chest. This can't be happening.

Sodapop gets there before I do. He's down on his knees, rolling Ponyboy onto his back. As I drop down next to him, he rips off his over-shirt and shoves it over Ponyboy's wound, pressing down hard. With eyes closed tightly, Ponyboy cries out in pain.

"I know, I know," Sodapop says gently. "I'm sorry. We gotta stop the bleeding."

There are a few shouts from around us and the Socs suddenly realize they aren't going to win. They begin to flee, but the greaser victory is cut short when people start to notice us huddled around the smallest member of the fight. Steve and Two-Bit come hurrying over to us.

"Two-Bit, get my truck," I say quickly. Two-Bit nods, but Steve grabs him and pushes him towards us.

"I'll get it." And he's gone before I can really question it. Two-Bit drops down beside Sodapop

"Hang in there, Pone," he says softly. Sodapop presses down hard again and this time Ponyboy starts to hyperventilate. This isn't like the movies or the books Ponyboy always reads. In those, people never seem like they're in pain. They always seem brave and strong and calm, but that's not how it is in real life.

Sodapop's shirt is soaking up blood fast. I know we need to get Ponyboy to calm down.

"Ponyboy," I say, "You gotta relax. I know it hurts, kiddo, but you need to breathe."

"Darry, you need to get him an ambulance," someone says. I don't look up at him.

"It'll take too long to get here. We're faster driving him there."

"Move, move!" a few people shout and the crowd around us backs up. Steve comes whipping in with the truck, driving right up to us. He kicks open the door and jumps out.

Sodapop scoops Ponyboy up in his arms and stands. He makes his way over to the passenger door and Two-Bit helps him get Ponyboy inside. Steve has left the truck running, so I quickly climb in and wait for Soda's door to close.

"Get Two-Bit's car and meet us at the hospital," I say. Steve nods. I flip the truck in reverse and get out of there as fast as I can.

Ponyboy is stretched over the front of the cab, his back on Soda's lap. Sodapop tries to go back to applying pressure to his wound, but his over-shirt is too damp. Quick as a flash, he rips off his t-shirt, exposing himself to the cold air. He doesn't seem to care.

Ponyboy has fallen silent. His eyes are dazed and his skin looks grayish. I don't need to know a lot about medical stuff to know that he's going into shock.

"Ponyboy, stay with us," I say, hoping to get into his brain. It looks like he nods ever-so-slightly, but it might be my imagination.

"It's okay, Pone," Sodapop murmurs. "It'll be okay. Just hang on. You're gonna be okay."

"Don't let him close his eyes," I say. "Do you understand me?"

Sodapop nods. I think, for a moment, that I can hear his heart pounding, but then I realize it's mine. Adrenaline is coursing through me. My hands are shaking, my knuckles turning white from my grip on the steering wheel. I'm not really sure I'm breathing.

"Pone," Sodapop says suddenly. "Ponyboy, you gotta stay awake. Can you hear me? C'mon, Pone. Open your eyes."

I glance over, but Ponyboy doesn't move. He mouth has fallen open slightly and his eyes are shut.

"Soda, make sure he's breathing," I say, and slam my foot down on the gas. Sodapop leans over him and listens close.

"He's breathing," he says shakily. "Ponyboy, stay with me. Please. Open your eyes. Don't do this to us. You gotta wake up."

The hospital comes into view. I speed into the parking lot of the ER and pull right up to the doors. I don't even cut the engine; I jump out and run over to rip Soda's door open. He hops down, Ponyboy limp in his arms, and we race inside.

Before we even need to call for help, a nurse behind the desk spots up and jumps to her feet. She rushes over to us and instantly sees all the blood. "We've got a code!" she shouts. "Omega!"

A few nurses seem to appear from nowhere. Two of them roll a gurney over to us and help Sodapop lay Ponyboy down before they start wheeling him away. We hurry alongside them, joined by a man in a white coat.

"What happened?" he asked.

"He was stabbed," I say. "He went into shock."

"What's his name?"

"Ponyboy."

The doctor doesn't seem to bat an eye. It might be because of the urgency of the situation, but I'm always used to people making faces when they hear Ponyboy's name.

They wheel him through a pair of doors into a big, silver looking room. A nurse stops us before we can go through.

"You boys need to leave," she says. "Go to the waiting room. We'll call you once we know anything."

"But–" Sodapop starts to protest. Ponyboy is already out of our reach, people swarming around him. We can barely see him.

"Soda, it's okay," I say. He ignores me.

"Is he gonna die?" he asks desperately. "Don't let him die. Please."

"We're doing everything we can," the nurse says. She glances in the room and back to us. "Go to the nurses' station and they'll give you a blanket to cover up. We'll send someone out to talk to you as soon as we know anything."

Sodapop's eyes are big and filled with tears. He opens his mouth, but when his lips move, no sound comes out. I grab his arm gently and start pulling him away, letting the nurse get back to her job.

"C'mon, Pepsi," I say softly. He follows along in defeat.

The nurses give him a blanket and offer him a gown to wear until we leave. I make him take it, because I don't want the staff thinking we're some kind of hoodlums who can't afford clothes. The people in the ER know Sodapop's shirt was used to lessen Ponyboy's blood loss, but no one else does.

He throws the gown on over his jeans and wraps the blanket around his shoulders. We go to the private waiting room in the back. No one else is there, which just seems to make it worse.

Sodapop sinks down into a plastic chair and pulls the blanket tighter around himself. He's looking at the ground, softly shuddering as he tries to hold back his tears. I sit down next to him and stare at the wall.

For a few minutes, we don't speak. I keep replaying the incident over in my head. The way Ponyboy's eyes widened as if he was shocked. The smile he had held on his face only moments before. The way he crumpled to the ground. The way his eyes closed. The color of his skin. The blood...

Sodapop bursts into tears. His adrenaline has worn off completely now and he's shaking.

"It's gonna be okay, Soda," I say, but my voice sounds strange. I wonder if I'm lying to him or to myself.

"We c-can't," he starts, hiccupping as he sobs. "C-can't lose h-him, Darry."

I wrap an arm around him and pull him close. "We won't," I say, rubbing his shoulder to warm him up. "We won't."

And I realize it's myself I'm lying to.

XxX

Steve and Two-Bit arrive nearly ten minutes after we do. They ask how Ponyboy is doing and when I tell them we don't know, they fall silent and sit next to us. I think we're all in a little bit of shock.

Sodapop has stopped crying, but his eyes are still rimmed with tears and every once in a while they fall. Steve chews on his thumbnail and Two-Bit's leg is bouncing a million miles an hour. They both are making me nervous.

It's hours before we hear anything. We take turns pestering nurses, but none of them know anything. It isn't until the man in the white coat from before comes into the room that I feel my heart start beating again.

"Darrel," he says, as I cross the room to meet him. His tone makes my stomach drop. _Please don't let him be dead. Please don't let him be dead. Please don't let him_–

"He's stable."

I feel myself breathe again. Sodapop is next to me, looking like he might crumble from exhaustion.

"We were able to close the wound and stop the bleeding. No major arteries were hit and nothing was damaged too badly. We gave him a transfusion to replace the blood he lost, but it was close. Did one of you pull the knife out after he was stabbed?"

I shake my head. "The guy who did it pulled it out."

"I see," he says. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but when someone is stabbed, it is always recommended to keep the object in place to slow the blood loss. Once it is ripped free, it has disastrous effects. That is why Ponyboy was bleeding out so much. You boys did well putting pressure on the wound until he got here. If you hadn't, he wouldn't have made it."

I see Sodapop's legs bend for a second. He doesn't fall, and the doctor doesn't seem to notice the small sign because he goes on.

"Ponyboy is resting now. He's very weak. We have him on oxygen and we're monitoring all his levels in the ICU. Because of his stability right now, we ask that only two of you visit him at a time." He eyes Two-Bit and Steve when he says it. "We'll need to keep him here for a few days at the very least while we give him medicine."

"Okay," I say breathlessly.

"I'll lead you to his room."

We follow him through a maze of halls that pour us out in the Intensive Care Unit. It's a scary place to be. It's a scary thing to think. He stops us in front of a door and reminds us again that only two people can go in. We agree, wait till he leaves, and then the four of us pile into the small room.

The steady beeping of Ponyboy's heart monitor is the first thing that hits me. It's then that I really look at him. His skin is still pale–though nothing like before, but now there are dark circles under his closed eyes. A breathing mask is over his mouth and nose, pumping oxygen as chest rises and falls gently. He doesn't have a shirt on, instead just a mountain of bandages wrapped around him, and a bunch of tubes connected to his arm.

Sodapop closes the distance between the two of them and smiles tearfully. He runs his hand back through Ponyboy's hair and the action seems to make Ponyboy let out a breath. For a second, his eyelashes flutter as if he's trying to wake up. Sodapop moves his hand away like he did something wrong.

Ponyboy's eyes open weakly. It looks like a challenge for him to keep his lids from closing again. I move forward quickly and stand next to Sodapop.

"Hey, kiddo," I say softly, keeping my voice low. "Stay still, okay? You're in the hospital. You're okay."

His lips part slightly and he breathes out something, but I can't understand it. I don't think he's supposed to be talking anyway. Sodapop turns back into himself and he smoothes back Ponyboy's hair again, making him close his eyes.

"Just rest," he says. "We're here now. You're gonna be okay."

Ponyboy falls back asleep almost instantly.

XxX

It isn't until the next day that Ponyboy wakes up again. We spend the night in the ICU with him because Sodapop is able to charm one of the nurses into agreeing to let us stay. It wasn't hard. Sodapop can charm anyone.

Nurses come in and out every four hours or so to check on Ponyboy. I wonder if they ever sleep, because they come in all through the night. It's after they've left, however, that Ponyboy opens his eyes.

His breathing mask has been replaced by a tube running under his nose. This time, when he pulls in a quiet breath, I can hear it. I glance over at him from my chair, waiting to see if he'll wake up. Sodapop is sleeping next to me. Steve and Two-Bit have left upon my request of not wanting to get kicked out and I'm sure they are roaming around the hospital, causing trouble.

When Ponyboy's eyes finally flutter open, I get to my feet.

"Hey, little buddy," I say quietly. He looks at me in a daze. I don't know if he's really awake.

"D-Darry?" he croaks out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, Pone," I say. "It's okay. You're in the hospital. You were stabbed during the rumble."

His eyes close for a second and re-open slowly. He's still weak.

"Are you in pain?"

He shakes his head just a little, as though the action is too difficult for his tired body.

"I'm so sorry, Pone," I say, feeling tears spring to my eyes. "I shouldn't have let you fight. I should've known better."

He shakes his head again. "Wasn't…your fault…" he breathes out. "Why…"

I look at him in concern. "Why what?"

"Why…is Sodapop…" He stops for a moment to grab energy from somewhere. "Wearing…a gown?"

I laugh, sniffing back my tears. "He wasn't wearing a shirt when we came in," I say. "They gave him that to cover up."

A smile small pulls at Ponyboy's lips. "That…nurse…likes him."

"I know she does," I say, smiling. "How do you know that?" But then I realize I shouldn't be asking him questions. "Never mind. You shouldn't be talking. You need to save your energy."

"That…Soc…" he says, letting out a long breath.

"Pone," I object gently, but he ignores me just like Sodapop did.

"He said…I would…die…like Bob…" He swallows hard, his eyes losing focus for a second. "Did…I?"

I shake my head. "No, Pone. You didn't die. We got you here in time. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

And he falls back to sleep.

XxX

Sodapop wakes again before Ponyboy does. I'm drifting in and out of sleep, trying to keep myself up almost unsuccessfully. Sodapop puts a hand on my shoulder and yawns.

"You look tired," he says. I smirk at him and rub my eyes.

"Says the boy in the gown."

He smiles, but doesn't have a retort. That's a good indication of how tired he is. He looks over at Ponyboy for a long moment before he speaks again. "When can we take him home?"

"I'm not sure, little buddy," I say. "He's still pretty weak."

"I heard you talking to him," he admits quietly. We haven't used our full voices since we came into this room. The place is so quiet and vulnerable that it seems odd to speak normally–like we're yelling, almost.

"You did?"

He nods. "I just want you to know it ain't your fault. It was supposed to be a clean fight. No one knew it would happen."

I sigh and run my hands over my face. "But I should've known. I shouldn't have let him fight. He's already so fragile."

"He ain't fragile," Sodapop says. "You just see him that way. He's stronger than you think, Dar."

"Yeah, but is he stronger than _he_ thinks?" I ask. Sodapop doesn't answer.

Steve and Two-Bit come back half an hour later and have a shirt for Sodapop. It's his own, or else I would've assumed Two-Bit lifted it from somewhere in the hospital. It wouldn't surprise me if he did.

Ponyboy wakes up again when a nurse is changing his bandages. He's groggy and for a moment must think he's somewhere else, because he seems to panic. She calms him down quickly before Sodapop and I have to step in.

He stays awake after that. He has a lot of his color back and the doctor tells us that everything seems to be healing just fine. We should be able to take him home tomorrow.

He doesn't talk much, but Two-Bit rattles on enough for all of us. He tells Ponyboy about how we won the fight and scared off the Socs. Ponyboy smiles as Two-Bit talks, but I can see in his eyes that the memory is hurting him. He knows just as well as we all do that that Soc who stabbed him ripped the blade free on purpose. He was hoping Ponyboy would bleed to death. He told Ponyboy he would die.

I pull myself out of those thoughts in time to see Ponyboy glance my way. We lock eyes for a moment as Two-Bit continues his happy rant. I give him a wink and he smiles, looking back as Steve chimes in. Sodapop laughs and puts a hand on Ponyboy's arm, silently letting him know that he's not alone.

And in that moment, everything feels okay. Even though we're all gathered around a bed in a small hospital room, it feels nice to have my family with me. I know that Two-Bit, Sodapop, and even Steve won't let anything happen to Ponyboy again. I think I understood that the moment I realized Steve went to get the truck because he knew he ran faster than Two-Bit. Sometimes it's the little things that people do– the ones they think no one notice– that really show how much they care.

And I know that Ponyboy will heal. Not just from this wound, but from everything. I know that the Socs will always have the upper hand and they will always do what they do. And even though our town might be divided in half, I saw the truth in that rumble. I saw a family of outcasts who came together and fought for each other. Who came together when one of us was hurt. We don't need fancy cars or clothes or expensive colognes to do that.

And I think, right now, this little, broken family will be enough to help Ponyboy feel okay again. And that's all I can really hope for.


End file.
